The Despairing Ones
by poohba
Summary: COMPLETE! CHAPTERS 3 & 4 ARE UP! The Enterprise crew visits a world recovering from brutal civil wars. It's as peaceful a place as they've ever seen, until an ex-con requests their help to escape his hellish existence.
1. 9430

_(This story takes place in the middle of TNG's fourth season. The stardate places it somewhere between the episodes "Clues" and "Galaxy's Child.")_

The Despairing Ones

Captain's Log, Stardate 44598.2: The Enterprise has been ordered to the Kenara system in order to reopen relations with the Ke'Nari. The Federation has had no contact with these people since the civil war that overthrew their monarchy a generation ago. However, the new Ke'Nari government has responded warmly to our initial overtures and seems to be interested in renewing diplomatic ties. 

"The Ke'Nari utilize a shield to protect their atmosphere from harmful radiation," Lieutenant Commander Data said from the science station at the back of the bridge. "Our transporters are unable to penetrate either the shield or the radiation."

"That means a shuttlecraft ride," Commander William T. Riker said, leaning into the console above the android's head to get a better look at the readings.

"Yes sir. From the main shuttlebay, I estimate a twenty-three minute, five second trip to the provided Ke'Nari coordinates just outside their governmental center."

Captain Jean-Luc Picard nodded. "Well, then, I will advise Prime Minister Succoth you are on your way… Number One…"

Riker acknowledged. "Data… Worf…" Soon, the first officer, science officer and Klingon security chief were on their way to the planet below.

***

"I have to say Prime Minister, your world certainly is one of the most peaceful we've visited," Riker said, looking down at Prime Minister Succoth. Riker was a tall man in any circle, but most of the Ke'Nari males seemed to be under six feet. Their women were even smaller.

"Thank you, Commander. Coming from one of the most-traveled men in the galaxy, that is a compliment indeed." 

Succoth was a soft-spoken man. Riker guessed him to be 50-some Earth years old, although that was hard to gage, since the Ke'Nari were among some of the least human-looking humanoids he had ever seen. 

Their ears stood upright from the top of their heads and were covered in a substance that appeared to be more like brown fur than hair. The fur covered the back of their heads and ran down to a point somewhere in mid-shoulder. 

Their manner of dress accentuated this. All the Ke'Nari, men and women, alike, were wearing some form of tunic that draped cowl-neck in front with a v-cut in back. Their faces, while hair-free, also seemed animal-like, with noses that seemed to run right down into their mouths. In fact, it had taken Riker quite awhile to get the image of the German Shepherd he'd owned as a boy out of his mind when he'd first seen Succoth.

The Ke'Narian governmental center seemed solid and ancient, with elaborate marble carvings everywhere. Riker supposed it had once been a royal palace. But it was stripped bare now. Minimal and utilitarian. He had yet to see one tapestry or framed wall art… any sign of culture, other than the building itself.

The Prime Minister now led the away team down a set of stone steps into the governmental center's courtyard – home of its main gardens. Around twenty younger Ke'Nari males wearing yellow tunics were amidst the colorful flowers, pruning and weeding. Most ignored the small group that walked past them and kept on working, but a few gave cold stares.

"We haven't had many visitors on Kenara Prime in the past thirty years, Commander," Succoth said sadly. "I must apologize for the young ones' behavior… You'll find we are a people that love order. Order brings peace and prosperity. Without discipline there is chaos. And a disruption in routine can be upsetting, especially to young men such as these."

"The purpose of this visit is not to disrupt routine," Data spoke for the first time since introducing himself to the prime minister.

Succoth's mouth turned up slightly. Riker took that for a Ke'Narian smile. "We know. It's just, we've been isolated for so long, we have to get used to visitors again… Come… I'll show you the Ke'Nari national symbol." 

The prime minister's lumbering gait took him over to a flowering plant. One of the men in yellow had been pruning back the long-petalled flowers, but when Succoth approached, he stopped and held out the branch he had been working on for inspection. 

"Good work, good work," Succoth said absently. He then turned his attention back to the away team, "Unfortunately, the flowering season is almost over, but you can still see how beautiful the Kuntara bud is."

"Indeed, Prime Minister," Riker said.

"You noted our tranquility earlier, Commander," Succoth said, slowly turning from the bush and continuing his walk around the garden's perimeter. "I regret to say, our world may not be as peaceful as any of us would wish to think. Every Ke'Narian carries the horrors of the war in their heart."

The away team followed Succoth as he made his way to an elaborate wrought-iron gate in the back of the garden. He opened the latch and walked through, continuing his thought.

"When we deposed the king, it was because we had come to despise everything he stood for… The king had always claimed to be appointed from the Divine One and therefore set apart. The old government said he was incapable of wrong… but Ke'Narians of my generation saw it differently. We hated his tyranny… And we found out he was mortal enough."

"You executed him?" Worf demanded. But, then, most things that came out of Worf's mouth sounded like demands.

Succoth nodded, sadly. "During the wars we did all we could to destroy the old class system. Great thinkers told us that all Ke'Narians were created by the Divine One and so, therefore, we all had a piece of the Divine Spark in us. Who needed a king or nobility when we all were beings created by the Divine One, capable of rational thought?"

"There was a similar time on my home planet," Riker interjected. "During the Age of Reason, humans began rebelling against old systems of government based on claims of heredity and divinity in order to form new ones. In a country called America they built up a system of self-government that was a model used in the formation of the United Federation of Planets itself."

"I wish our story had such a happy ending," Succoth said. "Unfortunately, we proved less capable at self-government as we had hoped. Without the feudal lords, there was no one to tell us when to plant crops. Thousands starved. Without the king and his nobles, there was no one to enforce laws. Chaos ensued. Thousands more died in riots and uprisings."

"If things were so bad," Riker asked. "How did you solve them?"

"A small group of us began to see the wrongs we'd caused. We sought to correct them by establishing a squadron to establish and keep the peace."

The security officer knew immediately what the leader was talking about, "A police force."

"Yes, Mr. Worf, you could call it that. We started with thirty Ke'Narians. Soon we had fifty and then, a hundred. Soon, we'd established a penal colony on one of our moons. In a few short years, we had restored the peace we had destroyed, minus the trappings of the monarchy of course."

"Impressive," Riker agreed.

The small group was approaching an impressive edifice. It soared higher than any other building in the governmental center and was inlaid with gold and silver, so it glistened under the Kenaran sun. "The temple to the Divine One," Succoth explained. Then he veered off to the side of the building, into an alley, where a small stone hut sat in the shadow of the gleaming building next door.

"I would not want you to return to your ship without meeting one of the most respected citizens in our governmental center," Succoth said to the away team. "Doyen Benar," he called out.

There was no answer from the small building. Succoth called again. And finally, a kindly voice came up from the path behind them. "I am here, prime minister." 

The away team turned around to see the oldest Ke'Narian they had laid eyes on yet. His fur was a silvery gray, which was accented all the more by the black tunic he wore. It seemed longer than the kind most of the men wore, and plainer too. The doyen bowed slightly to the prime minister and then his deep blue eyes settled on the away team.

Succoth made a similar bow. "Doyen, may I present officers from the Federation Starship _Enterprise_." 

The old one's eyes twinkled and he smiled the Ke'Narian smile. "Visitors from the Federation. In the unknowable name of the Divine One, I greet you to Kenara Prime."

Data began accessing his files. "The last known report on the Ke'Narians from thirty-one years ago stated a Ke'Narian named Benar was the head of worship of a deity known only as the Divine One, I assume you are the same Benar."

The doyen made a slight bow again.

Succoth stepped in. "Many things have changed in the past thirty years, but Doyen Benar has been our counselor and advisor for as long as I can remember."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Doyen," Riker said, imitating the bow he'd seen Succoth make.

"Thank you," the old religious leader said. "I always enjoyed receiving visitors and it's been so long. Please do come in and enjoy some tea with me."

"We'd be honored," Riker said. And the away team and Succoth followed Benar inside. The entry was so low, even Succoth had to duck to get in. Riker was worried for a moment whether Worf would even make it, but the Klingon was used to adapting to environments designed for creatures smaller than he was. He was able to duck low enough to enter the small sitting room.

"Rochella, we have guests," Benar called and a female Ke'Narian, almost as old and gray as he was entered the room from one of the cubbyholes that jutted off the main room. "May I present my sister, Rochella," Benar said.

"I'll prepare some tea," she said and ducked back off into the cubbyhole that Riker took to be the kitchen. The men sat on some awkwardly uncomfortable small chairs around a small table and waited for the refreshments.

The only light coming into the room was from a large window. It illuminated a dull room. Like the main building of the governmental center, it was devoid of artwork and furnishings. But unlike that building, this one seemed to have been designed to be that way.

When Rochella brought out the tea in a golden service set, it lit up the whole sitting area. "As a leader of the followers of the Divine One, I took vows to never mate and to give up my worldly possessions to the service of the Divine One," Benar explained. "But this tea set was passed down to us from our grandmother. It is as much Rochella's as mine. And it does feel better to serve visitors from something beautiful. I'm afraid even after a lifetime of service to the Divine One, I still find myself with the fault of pride.

"So, tell me…" the doyen continued, "What has happened in the rest of the galaxy while the Ke'Nari have sat here trying to solve our own problems."

Data spent the next several hours explaining the Federation/Klingon alliance, the resurgence of Romulan aggression and the new threat of the Borg, among other things. At least it felt like it took hours to Riker and Worf, who felt, the android was going into more detail than was really necessary. But Benar ate it up. Upon hearing about the alliance, he sat back in his seat and was pleased. But his face grew concerned when hearing about the Romulans and the Borg. "I will have to pray about that," he said softly.

Finally, the Kenaran sun dipped below the skyline and the room grew very dark. Rochella retreated once again into a cubbyhole and came forth with a lit golden lamp.

"Another gift from our grandmother," Benar explained, "Another sign of my pride." But he raised his mouth when his sister set the lamp on the small table.

"I'm afraid we really must return to our ship," Riker said rising from his seat stiffly. Data and Worf rose as well. "Thank you for your hospitality, Doyen Benar, Rochella."

The doyen rose and bowed.

Turning to Succoth, Riker said, "Prime Minister, our captain will be in contact again with you in the morning."

"I look forward to it, Commander." 

Succoth followed the away team to the entryway, until Benar said, "Succoth, wait, I have something to discuss with you. Marquess came to see me today."

Succoth's tone was suddenly sharp, "I wish you would not call him that, Doyen. His name now is 9430."

The doyen's expression did not change. "Marquess came to see me today," he repeated. "He is despairing and desperate. I'm afraid for him."

"Doyen, I do not wish to discuss this with you, especially in front of our guests," Succoth said. "9430 chose the life he has. No one chose it for him. I am sorry for him, but there is nothing I can do but tell Major Duqaunt to be on the lookout that 9430 may try something desperate."

Benar's eyes grew sad and he shook his head. "I am sorry too."

Succoth turned and went straight out the door, without a farewell to Benar or an offer to escort Riker, Data and Worf back to their shuttle.

The away team bowed again to the leader, stepped outside and looked at each other, puzzled. "What was that about?" Riker wondered out loud. 


	2. Marquess

"And Succoth gave no indication who this 'Marquess' is?" the Captain said eying his away team gathered around the observation lounge's long conference table.

"None sir," Data answered, "Although it is curious that the prime minister insisted that Marquess' name was now '9430.' The change seemed to be a result of something Marquess had done."

"Speculation?"

The android's head cocked to one side as he ran various facts through his positronic brain. "In other cultures, replacing a name with a number, often means a demotion in status. For example, on ancient earth, the Nazi party tattooed numbers on the forearms of their prisoners to use as identification since those people were considered sub-human."

Riker held his hand up, "Data you're comparing the Ke'Nari with Nazis? I just don't buy it. Succoth did not strike me as Hitler."

"I did not say he was, Commander. I was merely trying to give the situation some historical reference."

Counselor Deanna Troi interjected, "A HUMAN historical reference. We have to remember we are unfamiliar with this culture. Perhaps the Ke'Nari don't see identification quite the same way we do."

"I don't think so, Counselor. If you had been there, you'd have seen just how agitated Succoth became at the mere mention of the name. Perhaps you would have been able to tell us more about what was going on," Riker said.

"Perhaps Counselor Troi should accompany the next away team to the surface, then," Picard said. "I've contacted Prime Minister Succoth and he's expecting another party at 1400. In the meantime, although we now have a small mystery, I don't see that our mission has changed any."

The senior staff looked around at each other in agreement.

"Dismissed." Picard said.

The shuttle left the main shuttlebay at 1330 hours. Within minutes, Riker had piloted the small ship to a safe landing just outside the Ke'Narian governmental center. Prime Minister Succoth was waiting for them.

"I thought today your away team might be interested in a more in-depth look at the history of our…" Then the prime minister noticed Troi. "Oh… an addition to your party, Commander. I'm sorry I didn't notice sooner."

Riker beamed widely. "Prime Minister Succoth, meet Counselor Deanna Troi."

"Greetings, Counselor," Succoth said, bowing.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Prime Minister," Troi said in her softly accented voice.

Succoth continued, "As I was saying, I've arranged for you to meet today with our government's prime historian…"

"That sounds fine, Prime Minister," Riker nodded. "Data, Worf, why don't you accompany the prime minister?"

Succoth looked at him quizzically. 

"If you would allow us, Counselor Troi and I would like to just walk around the governmental center today," Riker said.

"Well, of course, Commander, if that's what you wish," Succoth did not sound pleased with the development, but didn't know how to get out of it without rudeness. "All our public places are open to you, but I ask you to remember that we Ke'Nari live a very ordered life."

"We will remember and respect that, Prime Minister," Riker said solemnly. "I just want to show the counselor your beautiful world."

Succoth nodded, "Good day, then. Shall I have your officers returned to you here by 1800?"

"Thank you, Prime Minister," Riker said. He and Troi watched Succoth turn and lead Data and Worf up a set of narrow steps and down a long corridor out of sight. He turned to Troi and raised an eyebrow.

The Empath didn't need her powers to know what that meant from her Imzadi. "He's frightened, Commander. He's terribly afraid that we will find something he doesn't want us to find."

"Like what?" Riker hovered.

Troi shook her head, "I'm not sure."

Riker crossed his arms over his chest. "I have a feeling Doyen Benar might. Let's head there first."

The doyen was not at home when they tried to find him at his hut. Rochella advised them to try next door at the Divine One's temple. 

The temple entranceway seemed dark after staring up at the glistening structure from the outside, but after a second their eyes adjusted. Although the interior of the building was dimmer from lack of sunlight, there were still all kinds of gold, silver and bejeweled objects glistening from candelight. The smell of incense clung to everything.

Benar was up front sitting with a large figure dressed in yellow. Riker thought for a moment that it was Worf, but then realized instead the figure was a very large middle-aged Ke'Narian… specifically, the largest Ke'Narian he'd seen. The doyen appeared to be counseling him somehow and it didn't seem right to intrude, so Riker and Troi hung back until the two Ke'Narians rose from their seats.

"Commander Riker," Benar called from the front. "Please come in with your friend. I wish you to meet a friend of mine."

"We're sorry to intrude, Doyen… We can come back later if…"

"No one can intrude in the Divine One's house, Commander," the doyen chuckled. "To intrude is to be uninvited and that it simply impossible here."

Riker and Troi approached the front of the room cautiously. "Doyen Benar, this is Counselor Troi,"

Benar bowed. Then he gestured to the giant Ke'Narian in the yellow tunic beside him, "Commander, Counselor, this is Marquess." Sensing Riker was about to say something, the religious leader said it first, "Yes, you heard Prime Minister Succoth and I discuss Marquess yesterday. I thought you might be curious about it."

Riker let his guard down, "Confused, actually."

The doyen smiled, "Yes, confused and curious go together, don't they? Let me explain what I can. Marquess is known to the government as Number 9430. That is… Convict Number 9430. He is no longer serving an active sentence; he is on parole, but as far as Succoth and his friends in the police are concerned, one gives up the right to a name as soon as one is convicted of a crime. This yellow tunic he must wear lets all of us know that at one time he was a 'dangerous criminal'."

"The men we saw yesterday tending the governmental center gardens were all in yellow," Riker said.

Benar nodded, "Yes, they are all parolees like Marquess, forced to perform labor for the government."

"That explains a lot," Riker said, thinking of the cold stares the garden workers had given, not to the away team, but to Succoth.

Troi shook her head, "I'm afraid I don't understand. If they are paroled, how can they still be forced into government labor?"

The large Ke'Narian named Marquess spoke. His voice was deep, mellow, and intelligent. "If you were to visit the lunal penal colony, Counselor, you'd discover garden work to be an improvement. But the fact is, no one else will hire us."

Benar continued the thought, "The law says once a prisoner is released on parole, he or she is free to find gainful employment. But what employer would want to hire a 'dangerous criminal' who has no name?"

"If you don't mind my asking," Riker said to Marquess, "What crime did you commit?"

Marquess shrugged. "I was fourteen years old. The wars were barely over. My sister and I were hungry, so we broke into a baked goods shop."

"You were arrested at the age of fourteen for stealing food?" Troi said, amazed. She had read about stories like this in ancient histories, but to see a man in front of her who had lived it was incomprehensible.

"Yes, and my sister… I have not seen or heard from her since. She was twelve at the time…"

"Let me get this straight," Riker said, gesturing to Benar and Marquess and then stroking his beard. "You served prison time for stealing food as an adolescent… how long?"

"I served twenty years on the lunal colony," Marquess said. "Five for stealing the food. The rest was added because I tried to escape. The whole time, I dreamed of finding my sister, starting my life over… I was released six months ago… but it has meant nothing. I'm still a prisoner, just a different kind."

The doyen added, "Succoth and the police are afraid that they haven't done a good enough job 'rehabilitating' their prisoners. 'If we let the released convicts loose on the public,' he tells me, 'all the work we've done building up our society will fall to pieces again.'

"Succoth is a good man," the doyen continued, ignoring a look of protest from Marquess. "But no Ke'Narian is perfect. Major Duqaunt, his leader of police, actually believes this is for the good of our society. I have tried to convince them otherwise and they do not listen. Perhaps if the Federation…"

Riker and Troi looked at each other. As their eyes met, their hearts sank because they both knew they could not help these people.

"Doyen Benar…" Riker started. "When we joined Starfleet, we had to promise to uphold a law of non-interference in other cultures. We can't interfere in your society's natural development."

Benar grimaced, as much as one could tell from his facial features. "From what I understand of your 'Prime Directive,' Commander, that only applies to societies that are primitive in their development or those who have not asked for your help. We are asking."

"Doyen Benar, I am sure you are an important leader for your people, but you are not a governmental official…" Riker said.

"You refuse to help," Marquess said. It wasn't a question.

"We can't help," Riker said, "Not without compromising everything we believe in."

The doyen and the parolee, defeated, looked at each other. "Then I will die in misery," Marquess sighed. He walked to the door with his head down.

Benar grimaced again and followed him, leaving Riker and Troi alone in the temple.

"Shuttle to _Enterprise_, requesting clearance to enter main shuttlebay," Data said.

"_Enterpris_e to shuttle, you are clear to enter shuttlebay," the controller's voice said over the commlink. 

"Acknowledged," Data said as he moved the shuttle through the shuttlebay's protective force field and down safely on the deck.

"That is a trip I am glad to be over," Riker said.

Data cocked his head to one side, "I, on the other hand, had a fascinating trip. Juyani Kimour gave us a detailed history of Ke'Narian agricultural patterns that I found most stimulating."

Riker and Troi grinned. "How about you, Worf?" Riker asked.

The Klingon curled his lip and hissed, "It was detailed."

"Well, Mr. Data, why don't you write up the report for the captain. I'll get started on one of my own," Riker said.

The android nodded. "Agreed, sir." 

The away team walked down the ramp and out the shuttlebay doors into the corridor outside. The shuttle controller, likewise, finished off his duty shift and left the bay abandoned. But inside the away team's shuttle, the tops of one of the bench's on the side started to move. Soon, Marquess had pried the lid off the storage compartment and was able to look at his surroundings.

The _Enterprise_ had a stowaway.


	3. Thief

Benar was due home soon from the temple. Rochella scurried around her small kitchen to get an afternoon tea put together. When the water came to a boil over her cook surface, she reached up through the curtained cubbyhole where she kept her grandmother's tea service

It wasn't there

Rochella's heart seemed to be beating somewhere around her ears. She pulled a stool out and stood on it to get a better view of the cubbyhole. The golden lamp of her grandmother's was sitting there, gleaming in the pale light. The teapot and tray were not.

Rochella almost fell off her stool, running to summon the police.

On the _Enterprise_, Marquess looked in the bag he'd brought with him. He'd stolen from the doyen and his sister and the bag with the tea service seemed even heavier than it should be.

Doyen Benar had been nothing but kind to him, and he was repaying it with this. But he needed funds. He had to escape somehow. Perhaps the captain of this ship could be bribed to take him far away from Kenara Prime. If not, he could bribe some freighter captain to take him away from the reach of the Ke'Narian police. He could start over, be the citizen he knew he was meant to be...

But he was at a loss at where to begin. 

He had done it all without thinking... running into the doyen's home when Rochella hadn't been looking, following Troi and Riker to their rendezvous with Succoth and the rest of the away team and jumping into the shuttle while they were distracted and hadn't noticed. 

And now what?

He was a thief once again and a parole violator. He would be sent back to the lunar prison again, this time, no doubt, for life. Somehow he doubted the guards would let it be a long life, this time. These Federation types hadn't seemed to want to get their hands dirty with an old Ke'Narian con. Why wouldn't they just turn him right back over to Major Duqaunt? 

He deserved to be handed over to Duquant.

Why had he ever done this? For twenty years he'd been justifying his thievery by telling himself that he and Wowegan, his sister, wouldn't have survived another day without breaking into the bake store. And now, he had stolen again out of desperation deeper than hunger. Did that mean he was flawed in some fundamental way? Damned? Perhaps the Divine One had turned his back on him.

In any case, he was on the _Enterprise_ now and there was nothing he could do about it. He had no way to get back to Kenara Prime if he wanted to. Marquess looked around for some place to hide in the large shuttlebay. He could stay there until the ship reached its next destination, if he had to.

"The Ke'Nari still seem very interested in opening diplomatic ties, sir," Riker told Picard as he walked across the bridge and took a seat next to the captain. "Succoth would like to meet with you."

Picard glanced sideways, amused at his executive officer, "You'll allow me to visit the surface, then, Number One?"

Riker grinned, understanding the joke. Picard knew it was Riker's duty to ensure the captain's safety, but sometimes he wondered if his Number One didn't carry it a little too far. "I think it's safe enough, sir. We've cleared up the mystery of 'Marquess' and I don't think he poses any threat. You will take Mr. Worf with you, of course."

"Oh, of course, Number One... Mr. Worf, please inform Prime Minister Succoth that I would be delighted to meet with him tomorrow if he would name the place and time."

"Acknowledged," the Klingon's voice boomed from behind them.

"I'm looking forward to this, Number One," Picard said, smiling. "Succoth sounds like a remarkable Ke'Narian... to help rebuild a government on such a devastated world like that..."

"Sir," Worf interrupted, concerned, "The Ke'Nari are advising us not to send any away teams in the near future. Prime Minister Succoth says he can not ensure our safety at this time."

"What?" Riker whirled his head around. "Everything was fine a few hours ago."

Picard pulled down the front of his uniform and stood up, "Please hail Prime Minister Succoth."

The Ke'Narian Prime Minister appeared on screen.

Picard's voice was as clipped as his sense of diplomacy would allow, "This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the _U.S.S. Enterprise_. Is there any way we can be of assistance to you, Prime Minister?"

Succoth bowed. "Captain, it is a pleasure. I hope you can help us. I'm afraid we're missing a dangerous criminal."

"Did someone escape from your lunar prison? We've detected no means of transportation between the moon and your planet," Picard said. His voice was growing more concerned.

Succoth shook his furry head. "No, Captain, I'm afraid one of our prison's parolees has committed another crime and our police can find him nowhere. He must have gotten onto your ship somehow."

Picard 's eyebrows furrowed, he didn't like the idea of harboring a fugitive felon on his ship, "Are you sure there is no way this parole-violator is still on the planet?"

"Captain, our police would know if he was here. Your away team's shuttle left the surface just before the crime was reported."

Riker rose from his seat and stood right behind Picard's right shoulder, "If you don't mind my asking, Prime Minister, who is this 'dangerous criminal' and what is his crime?"

Succoth's head tilted to study Riker better. "The Ke'Narian's name is 9430, although I understand he also answers to the name of Marquess. His crime is theft and breaking of parole…" Then he turned his attention back to Picard, "Please Captain, we need your help. I request that you search your ship. Major Duqaunt of the police force and I will take a transport vessel and meet you in orbit in 25 minutes. Succoth out."

The screen went back to the image of the planet below. "Well, Number One," Picard said, "Assemble the senior staff. We have 25 minutes to decide what we're going to do."

***

The senior staff was assembled in the observation lounge. That is, the senior staff minus Worf, who was out with his security force scouring the ship for a Ke'Narian male named Marquess. Picard got the meeting going.

"We've been asked by a world we're in the process of opening diplomatic ties with to extradite one of their prisoners," he said. "This very same prisoner asked us for asylum earlier…"

"Which I told him the Prime Directive wouldn't allow," Riker said, disgusted with himself.

Dr. Beverly Crusher was usually the one to play on everyone's conscience during Senior Staff meetings. "If Marquess managed to sneak aboard the shuttle and is here on the _Enterprise_, we can't return him to that kind of punishment again."

"I don't see that we have much of a choice, Doctor," Lieutenant Commander Geordi LaForge said, "Commander Riker was right, the Prime Directive applies here. We're not allowed to interfere with their legal system."

"Does it, Geordi?" Troi said softly in her "counselor voice," as Riker sometimes called it. "One of the Ke'Nari's most respected leaders asked us to help Marquess. Just because he doesn't hold a position in the government, does that mean he can't summon our help?"

"It's not the same, Counselor," Geordi shook his head.

Down at the end of the table, Picard looked from officer to officer. Leaning back in his chair, he said evenly, "I think it would be in the best interest to the Federation to help neither. The Prime Directive is about non-interference… about avoiding situations like these to begin with. I'm not sure it's much help to us now."

"Worf to Captain Picard," the intercom broke into the meeting.

"Picard here."

"We found a Ke'Narian male in the main shuttlebay. I am taking him to the brig."

Picard shook his head, "Why don't you bring him up here instead. I would like to meet the man that's causing all this trouble."

"Yes, sir," Worf acknowledged.

Just then, another message, this time from the bridge, piped through to the observation lounge. "Captain, a Ke'Nari shuttle is requesting clearance to land in our shuttlebay," the young ensign at Worf's post said.

"Prime Minister Succoth?" Picard asked.

"No, sir," the ensign replied, "His shuttle just gave an e.t.a. of 15 minutes. This is Doyen Benar."

The senior staff looked around at each other in wonder. "Give him permission to come aboard, Ensign," Picard said, "And request that he join us in the observation lounge."

"Yes sir."

Eight minutes later, Doyen Benar was seated at the table with Picard and the Senior Staff. A package was next to his feet. A security detail was holding Marquess near the door. Another officer held his bag.

Marquess' guilt was painful. He thought everyone in the room must know about it.

Counselor Troi knew, of course, but she kept quiet about it. She was sensing something from Benar too.

Finally, Marquess was ready to blurt out a confession… throw himself at the mercy of this strange Federation captain and his crew… anything to try and atone for his error… anything to stop hurting the Benar – the only Ke'Narian who'd ever shown him love. "Please, Captain, in my sack…"

The security officer opened the sack and pulled out the doyen's golden tea service.

Marquess was about to continue, when Troi started to smile and Benar spoke instead, "Ah, the tea service I gave you, my friend. What about it?"

Marquess' eyes widened. His jaw dropped. He didn't comprehend. "But I didn't…"

Benar got up from the table, picked up his package and walked around the room to stand in front of Marquess. The prisoner looked down into his eyes. There was sadness there, but also a light that seemed to emanate from a source more powerful than the old doyen. 

"… thank me, but I knew you were in a hurry, it didn't matter" the doyen finished Marquess' sentence. "In fact, you were in such a hurry, you forgot I gave you this too." He opened the package and handed his grandmother's golden lamp to the ex-convict.

Tears in Marquess' eyes welled up until they spilled over and washed his cheeks. He couldn't speak. He couldn't move. He just stood there, sobbing, with Doyen Benar standing in front of him and the _Enterprise _officers watching respectfully. 

Finally the doyen reached out to him, touching his arm, bringing him back to reality. "When you look at these golden objects, remember your golden soul. I bought that soul, here, today… bought it for the Divine One. You are his, now. Remember that, always. Now, for the needs of the moment… My shuttle has warp capabilities. I know the shuttle the Prime Minister and Duqaunt are taking does not."

Marquess could not believe his ears. They turned a bit, twitching. Then he looked at Picard.

The Captain of the _Enterprise_ rose from the table and addressed the religious leader. "Am I to understand, Doyen Benar, that Marquess has committed no new crime?"

The doyen nodded.

"Then, I don't see that I can hold him any longer. Mister Worf…"

Worf nodded to the security detail. It stepped back. The officer holding Marquess' bag returned it to him.

The Ke'Narian clutched the lamp and the bag to his chest, "Thank you, Captain Picard, from the bottom of my heart." He turned back to Benar and opened his mouth. Once again, he found no words could come out.

Benar patted his arm again. "I know, my friend. Words don't say enough. But actions do. If you want to thank me, pass this love along to someone else."

"I-I-I will," Marquess stumbled.

"Now, go… take the shuttle before its too late."

Marquess nodded. With one last grateful look, he took off running through the door.

Doyen Benar turned back to Picard and Co.

"That was beautiful," Crusher said. "Why did you do it?"

The old man simply shrugged. "I did it, because once, long ago, someone did the same for me."


	4. Redemption

"Captain, this is an outrage! I requested your help!" The crew of the _Enterprise_ had never seen Succoth this angry. The normally soft-spoken leader had turned a bright purple color in the face as soon Picard had informed him Marquess was no longer on board.

"Prime Minister," Picard said, "Doyen Benar assured me his sister acted hastily, involving the police. He gave the items in question to Marquess without her knowledge. No crime was committed. Therefore, there was no reason to hold him. He departed the solar system five minutes ago."

"That was not your decision to make, Picard," Major Duqaunt stepped in. He was tall -for a Ke'Narian - with slick black fur. His tone was arrogant and clipped. "A travesty in justice has been committed here. 

The police officer turned to Doyen Benar, "Doyen, how could you permit such a thing to happen? The unknowable name of the Divine One means justice; you taught me that when I was a little child."

"It means his justice, my son," Benar said slowly, "And that can be as hard to understand as his unknowable name."

The major straightened his shoulders. "The law is the law. And that means the same thing. I will find him, and when I do, 9430 will be brought to justice. To do anything otherwise, would be a grave offense against the Divine One."

Doyen Benar wondered where he had failed with Duqaunt. 

Captain's Log Stardate 44598.9: Prime Minister Succoth of the Ke'Nari has calmed down and agreed to discuss a possible treaty with the Federation when the next Starfleet vessel arrives. He and Doyen Benar returned to the surface. Major Duqaunt, however, left the system in a small shuttle. He seems determined to hunt down Marquess at all costs in the name of justice. However, Marquess' shuttle has a higher warp capability and an hour's head start. So far, we have heard nothing from either vessel. In any case, the _Enterprise_ has been ordered to Malcor III, a world almost ready for first contact.

The large warp engines on the _Enterprise_ started to glow as the ship broke out of Kenara Prime's orbit. The hull seemed to stretch for a moment, as the engines tore through normal space. Then, all that remained was a streak of blue light, as the ship jumped to warp.

Picard was sitting at his desk in his ready room, juggling pads while he researched what was known of the Malcorians. The door chime sounded. He looked up, "Come."

Data stepped in. "Sir, I am… puzzled… about our experience with the Ke'Nari."

Picard set his pad down on the desk, "In what way, Data?"

"I do not understand Doyen Benar's actions. Nor do I understand why Major Duqaunt elected to pursue Marquess."

Picard smiled, "I'm not sure I understand their actions, either, Data, but I do understand their motivations… Data, are you familiar with the French epic _Les Miserables_?"

The android tilted his head as he accessed the information, "Ah, _Les Miserables_ by Victor Hugo. First published in 1862… It is in my files, sir," he said, "although I have never chosen to seriously study it."

"I suggest you do, Data. It will tell you at least as much about human nature as Shakespeare."

"But, sir, neither Benar nor Duqaunt are human."

"Data," Picard said. "In the words of James T. Kirk, 'Everybody's human.'"

"Yes, sir," said Data, looking more puzzled than ever. He exited the ready room.

Picard looked down at all the notes in front of him. Instead of resuming his study, he moved over to the wall, where he kept several of his old-fashioned bound books. Finding the thick volume he was looking for, he sat down and began reading about a kindly man of God, the Bishop of Digne, and Jean Valjean, the ex-convict whose life he saved.


End file.
